


Psyche Put Out The Lamp

by bardsley



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Marriage, Sensory Deprivation, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8168807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardsley/pseuds/bardsley
Summary: Psyche muses on Cupid.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to DarkAngelAzrael for her help. All remaining mistakes are mine.

 

By now, she knew the flush – rose pink, like the first kiss of dawn – that slowly spread across his pale skin when he was hot with love of her. She knew the only scar on his forever-youthful body was the one she had given him. She knew that his curls were the same yellow shade as the sands on the beaches of Crete; and that in moments of passion the roots of his hair would darken with sweat. She could conjure up the way the beads of sweat glistened against his skin like scattered starlight without so much as bothering to close her eyes. And Psyche was grateful for this. Cupid’s beloved face was the one she hoped to see first each morning and the last she wished to see each night of her eternity.

 

But, sometimes, Psyche preferred the darkness. She would put out the lamp, hold her wings close against her body, and lay on their bed. Still and quiet, she would wait for the bed to dip and for the soft rustle of the bedclothes that meant that he was coming for her. Sometimes, he would make her wait so long that she began to imagine that she was alone in the darkness. The silence, and the memory of their nights together, was enough to make her shudder. Only her promise never to doubt him again would keep her from calling out to him.

 

Although sometimes she was already trembling by the time that he touched her, he never once failed to reach for her. Even though he had never shown her anything but Love itself, the thought that sometime in forever he might get tired of her and leave her untouched in the darkness coiled tight in her belly like a serpent strangling itself.

 

In some ways, it was easier in the beginning when she thought the winged thing that made his way into her bed at night was a monstrous dragon. With the lamp put out, she did not care if he was hideous – not with the way his knowing hands caressed her skin. Every time he was inside her, she felt that heat that began between her legs and slowly built and burned throughout her whole body was the dragon devouring her. And she welcomed it.

 

Now Psyche knew who made ecstasy shiver through her blood. She knew what heaven was. And that no woman – mortal or immortal – could ever resist him. Psyche could not help but wonder if sometime in eternity someone whose name meant greed as much as it meant love would one day want someone besides her.

 

So, as if a butterfly could come to crave the night instead of the candlelight that burned her, Psyche put out the lamp. It was easier in the darkness when she could not see the near-perfection of his skin or the way his hazel eyes made promises of love. They were not god and goddess, or even husband and wife. They were two elements meant to be together, brought together. They were the rough caress of his hand against her breast, the salt of his sweat, and the scent of sex. The broken way he so often sighed her name, as if he might shatter without offering up _Psyche_ as a prayer, always brought to mind the image of his pink lips slack with pleasure even when she could not see him. Then eternity ended. There was nothing but that one moment and the two of them together, and that was forever.


End file.
